Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time - Chapter 305

WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: ZERO_SUGAR

◈ Surviving as a Genius on Borrowed Time ◈

Episode 305: Softened Nezha (4)

──────

It was a plain where the crops were dying.

Bang!

Beneath the blazing sunlight spilling across the pure-white snow, crimson and ash-gray Radiant Nets collided and scattered again and again.

The snow-covered ground kept churning amid the fragments of shattered force waves.

They were supreme masters who moved across the battlefield in wide arcs. The same pattern repeated. They were flung back dozens of zhang by the recoil, then collided again at once.

The palm shadows of the Blood Shadow Rakshasa Hand mingled with the qi sword control of the Eight Illusions Divine Art. The paths of hand and sword tangled chaotically.

Creeeak!

Sparks flew against the Seventh Apostle's black eye patch, embroidered with gold thread.

It happened just after her pale hand seized the entire blade.

Her hair was thrown back by the fierce wind of the sword's force wave, while the divine sword caught in her grip slowly pressed toward her chest.

"I hear the Blood Flame Sect Master twisted the Buddha's teachings into something grotesque when he preached them. Your palm art is much the same."

The owner of the flying sword spoke from beyond its hilt.

She had long limbs, with the bearing of an exceptional swordsman at a glance.

The hem of her ash-gray long robe hung to her feet. Her grayish-white hair, cut short enough to cover only her nape, was particularly striking.

She was a beauty untouched by time, yet her fierce expression made her seem out of place amid the surrounding scenery.

She looked coldly at the Seventh Apostle's left hand.

Unlike the hand blocking the blade, it was not wrapped in any aura.

Still, Spirit Sky Sword Ghost Baek Seo-gun remained wary of the Blood Flame Sect Apostle's next move, even while controlling her sword from afar. There was no knowing what bizarre technique might emerge, or when.

There was another reason she kept talking. As the Sword Venerable of the Demonic Sect, she understood the power of provocation well.

"Blood Shadow Rakshasa Hand. For something that prattles on about rakshasas, it lacks depth. You are no guardian deity of the Buddhist teachings. You are closer to a blood demon that craves blood."

Rumble.

The flying sword trembled. The force pushing it away and the palm force holding it in place were locked together. White flurries of snow rose beneath the two women.

The Seventh Apostle curled one corner of her mouth.

"Your knowledge of the martial world must be awfully narrow. The True Bloodline doesn't use essence absorption."

"The blood demons beneath you are vile."

"That's why we're crushing them. Nearly all those bothersome Shanxi bugs are dead. Shall we head toward Henan next? No, perhaps Xinjiang instead."

"Madwoman."

"Isn't the crazy one you, auntie? You suddenly attacked first. I suppose you don't want to die peacefully?"

"A lesser one's tongue is quite sharp."

"No, should I call you grandmother instead? How many years apart are you and the Desolate Divine Spear?"

"You insignificant child, not even knowing seniority. I can tell how you were raised. It explains why your martial arts have no refinement."

Creeeeak.

The grinding of metal grew louder as the flying sword shook within the Seventh Apostle's grip.

Even with palm force and the Protective Qi Technique, there was a limit to how long she could block a supreme transcendence technique. Blood began to run from the hand gripping the blade.

"If anything happens to my Grand Preceptor while I'm dealing with you."

Perhaps because of the pain, the Seventh Apostle's smile deepened. So did the madness in her expression.

"If my Grand Preceptor, who hasn't lived even half as long as you, dies here... I'll put every pain in the world into your body."

She sounded out of her mind as she whispered seductively.

"I'll fill your acupoints with needles and snap every minor meridian strand by strand. I'll make even the slightest movement of every muscle hurt. Then comes tendon-rending and bone-dislocating, but before that, I'll turn you into a blood demon and grant you the power of regeneration. You'll never be able to die."

The killing intent in her voice was incredibly dense. Even the irregular aura stirring around her lips carried her hostility plainly.

Yet the light in Baek Seo-gun's eyes only continued flashing like black lightning.

"Grand Preceptor?"

She merely furrowed her brow. At the same time, the flying sword stopped in place.

"Do you mean Seom-ye?"

She had seen the head of one of the Eight Great Families attacking Jeong Yeon-shin.

It was desperately urgent. Whatever the misunderstanding was, whatever intentions lay behind it, did not matter.

The time being wasted here was the problem.

The more blows they exchanged, the clearer it became that leaving this place had to come first.

Their conversation swiftly reached its conclusion.

Baek Seo-gun gave a vague answer.

"I am that child's... nursemaid."

"What?"

...

It did not take long for their strange companionship to form.

Baek Seo-gun immediately rose into the air atop her sword, while the Seventh Apostle kicked off the ground at high speed. Both remained wary of the other as they raced in a straight line toward the Gongya Family.

They reached their destination in one dash, in the blink of an eye.

First, they confirmed that the sounds of clashing auras had ceased.

Then they found that the barrier of the Zhuge Family Head had vanished without a trace. Soon after, they rose high into the sky and saw the headless corpse.

It was a corpse clad in white silk robes, one no one dared touch.

"...That Zhuge bastard is dead. How?"

"My Grand Preceptor must have done it. With senses like a magnificent starry sky."

"You are... something else."

Baek Seo-gun glanced to the side. The sword beneath her feet hummed as though restraining itself from attacking.

The Seventh Apostle was slowly descending, her bright-red Pure Blood Robe's sleeves spread wide.

The small back of her head gave off an air of rapturous joy.

She descended from afar while staring at Seom-ye, who faced some lout lounging in a palanquin. Despite her beautiful face, she had the disposition of a sinister bat.

Desolate Fortress had many enemies.

If the Seventh Apostle of the Blood Flame Sect truly intended to protect Seom-ye, it was right to leave her be. Still, Baek Seo-gun would need to watch her for a long time.

At that moment, Baek Seo-gun's eyes grew grave.

'For a long time.'

It might have been a meaningless clue.

She was the Sword Venerable of the Heart Martial Union. She could not follow Seom-ye forever.

She had set out after smashing the Eldest Young Master of the Heart Martial Union, who had been making advances toward her. The longer she remained away, the deeper the Heart Martial Union Leader's rage would grow.

'How can I earn that child's recognition?'

She was the same as the Zhuge Family Head. She knew it herself. As a martial artist of the unorthodox sects and a master of swordsmanship, she had a strangely twisted personality.

The proud self-respect of the Sword Venerable of Henan would not allow her past as a maidservant.

She wanted the favor of someone who resembled Jeong Ban-ak, yet had become far loftier than him. She wanted to elevate the standing of Baek Seo-gun, the maidservant left in the past.

Fortunately, she had found a chance to step forward. Now, she needed to end her journey quickly.

* * *

Something important was happening, though in a different way from the Zhuge Family Head incident.

In matters of civilian life, a Senior First Rank official was a figure whose arrival could be called a descent rather than a visit.

An Associate Director who commanded military administration was close to a heavenly being, too difficult even to meet.

A peerless master was power equivalent to a northern army corps, so the attention of the highest-ranking officials naturally followed.

"We come from the Five Military Headquarters. Associate Director Jiang has arrived."

Step.

Four swordsmen in blue official robes carried in a palanquin and faced the badly battered Squad Leaders of Desolate Fortress.

The two men and two women were all masters. Even as the Black Uniform members under the Divine Sword Corps gave off terrifying killing intent, they stood tall through sheer force of presence.

"You must have heard the announcement."

A man in blue robes who appeared to be their leader spoke.

"It seems you were too busy concentrating on your work."

"What?"

Ak Su-rim, who had been watching them with displeasure, shifted her weight to one leg.

"Our Seom-ye's hand must have slipped. As you can see, he fought a fierce battle. His opponent was the Zhuge Family Head, who had completed a sorcery formation. Isn't the fact that he survived and killed him in battle impressive enough? The Depot and Guard could never dream of accomplishing it."

She gave a slight glance toward the palanquin. The Depot and Guard was the collective name for the Eastern Depot and the Embroidered Uniform Guard.

Whoosh.

A dry wind swept across the barren ground ruined by battle.

Associate Director Jiang Suihui leaned against the backrest of a palanquin decorated with silver trim.

His black official hat had a round brim. He wore a wild fur garment over his official robes. The fur was incongruous with official robes, yet it suited the handsome man remarkably well.

His slightly pointed ears suggested that he might be a mix of Han Chinese and the elven race.

He was the third most honored figure in the Five Military Headquarters, which oversaw the armies of the realm.

As a Senior First Rank official, he looked down even on renowned generals. Only the Left and Right Military Governors stood directly above him.

"......"

He examined the Zhuge Family Head's face from the corner of his eye.

It was difficult to find the transcendence of a peerless master in a head lying alone on the ground. It was hard to believe even with his own eyes.

It was also deeply regrettable.

Jegal Cheonsang might have been a madman among martial artists, but he had not touched the common people. His intentions were obvious.

He had wanted to avoid making the military establishment his enemy after Desolate Fortress.

'I'd known long ago that he was a rare bastard. The Eastern Depot's information network deserves much of the credit.'

Even so, there was a reason Jiang had welcomed him to Shanxi.

Using one poison to control another. Desolate Fortress was powerful, but its influence did not reach all of the Central Plains. Jiang had planned to use the Zhuge Family Head to restrain the Shanxi martial artists, who possessed the troublesome Body Movement Scripture and preyed upon others.

Those martial artists were the sort of riffraff who tarnished the authority of government soldiers even when there was no famine.

Anger welled up inside him.

'How dare they.'

He had sensed the Zhuge Family Head's qi fading and hurriedly ordered the announcement of his arrival.

But the sword had already been swung. They had not cared even after hearing that the third-ranking figure of the august military administration had arrived.

This was no way to treat an Associate Director.

It did not matter if they were Squad Leaders of Desolate Fortress. Could those who upheld the nation's order treat the highest-ranking officials with such disregard? It was right to question them face-to-face about their crime.

Jiang Suihui turned his head toward the base of the palanquin.

"......"

His anger settled.

His eyes had met those of a youth so dignified he could have passed for royalty. No, a swordsman somewhere between a boy and a young man.

Jiang Suihui was unlike provincial officials.

He was directly connected to Beijing's central political world and regularly received all manner of news. His intake of information was exceptionally swift.

Not only did he promptly examine the facial-feature portraits of the seventeen Black Uniform Squad Leaders of the Divine Sword Corps, he also knew their personal connections in great detail.

The personal records of Desolate Fortress's Black Uniform members were classified at the highest level to ensure their safety while carrying out missions.

Only the imperial family and intelligence agencies such as the Depot and Guard could access them, so learning even their relationships was no easy task.

'Seom-ye, Leader of Demon Wings. The one favored by the Imperial Grandson.'

Disciple of the Lord of Desolate Fortress. The Imperial Grandson's junior martial brother.

Without even laying a hand on him, Seom-ye had caused the eunuch Myeong Yeo, who had been assigned to him, to be demoted.

He was said to be extremely arrogant and unrestrained. As soon as he became Black Uniform, he had taken the head of a Prefect.

As it turned out, he was of the Desolate Ma family's bloodline. It all made sense at once.

'The Tyrant Hero's maternal grandson, they say. Since he killed the Zhuge Family Head, he must now be the person closest to Purple Uniform.'

Purple Uniform of Desolate Fortress.

The government offices called it the absolute rank of Yama. There was no substitute for such a person.

The imperial family's peerless masters could not leave the Forbidden City, so in practice it was a position the nation openly recognized as below one person and above ten thousand.

On the other hand, Beijing was full of people coveting the post of Associate Director.

'The Tyrant Hero of old... crippled the Chief Eunuch of the Directorate of Ceremonial.'

It was said that he had attacked like lightning after arguing with the leader who oversaw the Eastern Depot, Western Depot, and Internal Palace Surveillance.

Even then, the incident had been quietly buried. Anyone who spoke of the rumor was instead dragged into the Eastern Depot. It had happened with the Emperor's approval.

Afterward, the Tyrant Hero had come to be regarded as a Demon God by both officials and martial artists. Jiang Suihui had once glimpsed Ma Yeon-jeok's face in passing. It had been terrifying.

This was a world where martial arts ran rampant.

A Senior First Rank military official naturally had to be a supreme master who had opened all three dantians.

A series of thoughts flashed through his mind like rays of light, carried by the upper dantian circulation of the Five Elements Heavy Spirit Heart Art.

'By reason and principle, I should punish everyone here. His Majesty despises flattery.'

The Associate Director was clearly of higher standing than a Black Uniform member of Desolate Fortress.

Taking both rank and real authority into account, it was an office that could at least enter the lowest end of the top ten in the imperial hierarchy.

It was also Jiang Suihui's lofty pride, built over long years alongside his rank.

He had lived for the people's welfare, so he had nothing to fear.

Jiang Suihui looked gravely down at the Leader of Demon Wings and considered how he ought to treat him.

As he stared, the face of the Tyrant Hero, lately surrounded by ominous rumors, flickered before him.

It was a moment of grave choice.

Then.

"I pay my respects to the Associate Director."

Jeong Yeon-shin calmly offered a martial salute, holding his sword upside down in one hand. He had just come through a fierce battle.

His excitement had not yet faded, so he had failed to pay attention to his bearing.

Jiang Suihui's shoulders gave a spirited twitch.

The martial nobility watching nearby had begun to whisper.

"Isn't he the greatest rising talent of the past hundred years? I don't think even the Ming Cult's Young Sect Master has reached that realm. He is Lotus Nezha himself. The lower folk did not exaggerate."

"Lotus Nezha?"

"From Buddhist myth. Is he not like the fighting god, Prince Nezha, appearing atop a lotus? He killed the Zhuge Family Head. No epithet could be an exaggeration now."

"Are you insane?! Shut your mouths and lower your voices! A Senior First Rank official is right there! Calling someone a prince... He already looks displeased enough..."

"Did that man just offer a sword salute to an official? I heard he has a talent for provocation."

"Not many in the martial world can stop Lotus Nezha now, but the government is different. That etiquette is graceful for a martial artist, yet toward the highest-ranking official of military administration..."

As the conversation continued, everyone gauged the expressions of Seom-ye, Leader of Demon Wings, and the Associate Director of the Five Military Headquarters.

'Those gentry bastards. They are about to die.'

Jiang Suihui's face hardened in irritation as he stepped down from the palanquin. His official robes, woven from heavenly silkworm silk, rustled against the wood.

The sound drew silence.

"My name is Jiang Suihui. I serve as an Associate Director."

He spoke rather slowly, his voice carrying the weariness of a Senior First Rank official.

The Leader of Demon Wings lowered his hands.

"I am Jeong Yeon-shin of Desolate Fortress."

A strange tension pulled tight through the surroundings. The conflict between Desolate Fortress and the military was nothing new.

Anyone with a little knowledge knew it well. At this moment, even the silence between words seemed to settle heavily into the air.

"I know. Of course I know."

Jiang Suihui nodded and spoke formally after making up his mind.

"Your height does not suit your face. Those limbs are quite long, the build of a swordsman. You were born for it. How old are you?"

"My age?"

"Did you think I was asking the age of the Desolate Divine Spear? I do not wish to die away from home."